


Transitions

by eleanor_lavish, thepsychicclam



Series: Valiant Effort [31]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-20
Updated: 2009-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone worries, Elijah clubs, Billy stresses, and Dom gets ready to take everyone home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transitions

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Clammy.

Sean sighed and threw his cell phone down in frustration. Billy looked up from his writing pad, where he'd been hunched over for hours, and coughed politely. Sean shot up from the couch and started pacing back and forth.

"Who was on the phone, Sean?" Billy asked patiently. He placed the pad and pen on the coffee table and picked up a cup of lukewarm tea.

"Record company. Oh no, I couldn't talk to Sean; Mr. Bean is _way_ too busy to talk to me." Sean ran a hand through his hair, then placed the hand on his hip as he paced. "But boy did I get a message from Bean."

"And that message would be?" Billy stretched against the couch cushions, pushing his chin back to pop his neck with the heel of his palm.

"If we don't – no, let's change that – if _I_ don't book some kind of UK club tour, then the whole deal is off and the record company will hold that Valiant Effort is in breach of contract, therefore canceling the record deal, any proceedings, and everything that goes with it." Sean kicked the stone fireplace hearth with his foot. "Fuck!"

"You're fucking joking?" Billy set his cup of tea down hastily. "Well, book something! You're the manager! Do it!"

"I can't just magically book club gigs! It doesn't work like that. And don't put this all on me, Billy. Two weeks ago, there wasn't even a band."

"But we're a band again," Billy argued. Sean noticed he had a sort of wild look in his eyes, like he could come unhinged at any moment. "You can't fuck this up."

"Right, cause it's all my responsibility," Sean spat. He felt overwhelmed and terrified. He didn't have a _fucking_ clue what he was doing. And the record company and the band were all looking at _him_ to make things happen. Good ol' Sean Astin, copy-bitch supreme.

What had he gotten himself into? Things were so much easier when he didn't actually believe the band would do anything more than a few New York club gigs. But a genuine, authentic UK club tour? He didn't know the first thing about booking this kind of thing. Hell, he hadn't known what to do since they had made an actual CD, but things had just worked themselves out then. But now? Maybe Viggo would know.

Sean really didn't know what he'd do without Viggo.

"I didn't mean that. But we can't book gigs. That _is_ your job." Billy stood up and started pacing on the opposite side of the sitting room.

"Okay. You've got to get the band together and practice. When's the last time you even played?"

 _Good_ , Sean thought. _Practice. Enforce discipline. It's something, right?_

"Not since we came to England," Billy admitted reluctantly. He looked about as happy about that as Sean did. "It's too late to do anything today. Orlando is with his mother, Dom is out with some old mates, and Elijah's god knows where."

"Tomorrow is bad, too," Sean said quietly. He took a deep breath and blew it out. "Day after tomorrow, I expect nothing but practice. Orlando's the only one who has an excuse not to be here, but I even expect him to put the band first. If I'm going to bust my ass getting UK gigs, you four sure as hell aren't going to mess it up."

"You don't have to worry about that," Billy said hotly. "They'll practice, or they'll regret it. Believe me – they don't want to fuck with me."

Sean stared at Billy and knew he meant what he said. Sean sure as hell wouldn't want to fuck with Billy Boyd – especially when Valiant Effort was concerned.

And that made him even more nervous. It wasn't just himself riding on his decisions.

He was definitely in over his head.

*

Elijah was happy. Sure, things weren't perfect and he wasn't stupid enough to think that they ever would be that way. But compared to the last few months, this was fucking bliss.

Billy was "working", which meant anytime anyone other than Sean or Orlando talked to him he'd yell at them to leave him alone. So, Elijah dodged Billy as much as he could, because if there was one person you ever wanted to avoid, it was Billy Boyd when he was "working".

Orlando had spent the last week helping his mother finish a bunch of business dealing with his father's estate, putting the house on the market, and a bunch of other stuff that had nothing to do with the band. Since the funeral a week ago, Orlando had been almost scarce, but he seemed okay. Orlando was a pretty terrible actor, so it wasn't like he could hide anything from the other three. Plus, Elijah figured he was still pretty fucking stoked about whole sleeping with Billy thing.

Elijah had seen Dom more than the other two, but still not as much as he'd like. Dom had family and friends all around, so he spent most of his time meeting up with old mates and visiting his family. "More than the other two" really just meant he saw him for more than five minutes a day.

So, that left Elijah pretty much to his own devices. He hung out with Viggo a little, but Viggo spent most of his time sitting in corners or in parks writing. Elijah was in desperate need of something to do and quick, before he lost his fucking mind. He might have been lonely and bored, but he was happy – if that made any sense.

And that's when, quite by accident, he found a small pub called Ben's. The club scene in Canterbury was severely lacking, and _nothing_ like in New York, but they had a lot of amazing pubs. A few days before, Elijah had been making the rounds, checking out all the different pubs, when he overheard a couple of blokes talking about a rave at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. One of the guys looked up and saw Elijah listening, so he discretely handed him a flyer.

"They provide the location and the music; you provide the drugs and alcohol."

Elijah had no intention of actually _going_ to the rave. Raves were so three years ago. But, as the days stretched on, he realized there really was nothing to do, and he'd never been to a rave, and raves might be different in Canterbury. But really, he was just bored.

The warehouse looked like any other warehouse; dingy, empty, uninviting. If he hadn't heard the pounding bass line or seen the groups of people coming in and out of a door on the far side, he'd have thought it was empty.

He walked up timidly, pulling self-consciously at the leather wrist cuff he'd borrowed from Dom (without Dom's knowledge), shifting in the black _21st Century Rock and Roll_ t-shirt – that he'd also borrowed from Dom – that fit tightly on Dom, yet on him was just a tad too big. But Dom had looked so fucking sexy in it, that Elijah thought maybe, _just maybe_ , it'd work the same for him. But as he ran his fingertips underneath his eyes to wipe away any smeared eyeliner, he realized that Dom was sexy where he was just boring, plain, geeky Elijah.

Pushing Dom out of his mind (for now), Elijah fell into step behind a group of stylish women and breezed past the guys at the door with all the fake confidence in the world. If there was one thing Elijah could do, it was act like he had his shit together and was a rockstar when he needed to. It was, he figured, the only reason he'd gotten anywhere.

The warehouse was divided into a few large rooms with couches, chairs, and bars. The music poured through a sound system overhead, pounding into each room from a large speaker in the corner. The front room was well-lit, and most people stood around, close to one another talking. As he quickly walked through this room, he glanced to the left and noticed another, smaller room, but instead of checking it out, he continued into the back.

The back room was dark, with a faint purple glow from the numerous black lights. Every few minutes, a strobe light would come on, making the entire room appear to be moving in slow motion. The music was a strong, thumping techno, not the run of the mill dance music he heard in some of the New York clubs, but a true, rave techno. He'd never been fond of that kind of music (what was there to like when the song only consisted of a repeating beat and vocals that didn't match?), but tonight, it seemed to fit.

He bumped into a girl with a flashing pacifier in her mouth, tried to apologize, but found his voice was lost in the din. He went over to the bar and ordered two shots of something, but he wasn't sure what he pointed to on the list. He wasn't sure if he'd end up with a buttery nipple, blow job, fraggle rock, or liquid cocaine shot. Shots weren't his usual choice drink, so he didn't have a damn clue what was in any of them. But as long as they had alcohol, he was okay with anything.

While he waited, he surveyed the room around him. There were girls dancing with girls and boys dancing with boys and girls dancing with boys in every combination imaginable. He didn't see anyone having sex (which he found rather odd), but there were a lot of scantily clad people dancing so close together that they ought to have been fucking.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around to the bartender holding up two shot glasses. When Elijah took them from her, he noticed they weren't shot glasses at all, but small, shot-sized paper Dixie cups. He guessed that kept the amount of broken glass and stolen shot glasses down.

He walked towards a small table against the wall where a group of girls sat. They all looked him up and down when he walked over, a few turned away uninterested and a couple held his gaze. He turned away quickly – he was _definitely_ not interested in anything with breasts – and slammed back the first shot.

It was the most revolting thing he'd ever tasted. It burned all the way down, and once he'd swallowed, he started coughing. The group of girls laughed at him and got up from the table, so he sat down on one of the stools. He didn't know what the _fuck_ was in that drink, but it tasted like peppermint flavored gasoline. He eyed the other shot suspiciously, figuring that the bartender had given him the same shots. But he was already feeling the alcohol burning through his limbs.

"Damn, that was strong," he said to himself, though he couldn't hear his voice above the music. He lifted the shot and, taking a deep breath, knocked it back quickly, trying to slide it as quickly off his tongue as possible. It wasn't as bad this time, he didn't let it linger in his mouth as long, but it still had a kick. After sitting on the stool and letting the alcohol settle a bit, he slid off the stool and joined the throng of people on the dance floor.

Squeezing his way through the sweaty crowd, he ended up somewhere close to the middle, right in the thick of it so he wouldn't have to worry about people watching from the sidelines. Plus, this gave him an excuse to dance against cute strangers if he felt so inclined.

It didn't take ten minutes before Elijah was sandwiched between two guys. One was a tall, dark haired man with perfect skin and dark eyes. In the pale, purple light of the warehouse, he looked almost sinister, but instead, Elijah thought he was fucking gorgeous. He had his arms around Elijah's waist, pulling their hips dangerously close together, so close that Elijah could feel his cock pressing into his leg. The second guy, pressed firmly against Elijah's back with his cock resting nicely on Elijah's ass, was shorter than the other guy, but still taller than Elijah. His hair was lighter, as were his eyes, and even though he was also fucking hot, he was nothing compared to the darker one.

But Elijah didn't care at that moment which was more attractive; he was pressed between them while the light one sucked on his neck and the dark one sucked on his tongue.

The two guys pressed closer against him as the strobe light came on, and between the flashing lights and the alcohol, Elijah felt like he was in a dream. He lay his head back against the light one's shoulder, and when he rolled his head towards him, he leaned down and kissed him hard, roughly swiping his tongue along the inside of his mouth as their teeth clashed together. The dark one moved an inch to the side so their legs could fit together, and started rubbing up against him. He felt the friction from the jeans against his hard cock (he'd purposefully forgotten the boxers – yet another tip from Dom), and he curled his fingers into the guy's jeans and pulled him even closer. The guy kissing him held the belt loops of Elijah's jeans tightly and rolled his hips slowly against his ass, pressing just hard enough to tease.

He wished suddenly that Dom, Billy, and Orlando could see him, sandwiched in between two gorgeous guys. But then again, maybe he didn't want them to see it (especially Dom).

The dance floor was crowded. Elijah looked around in a haze, the music quick and loud and piercing his brain. He wasn't sure what the hell he drank, but he'd never gotten so drunk off two shots before. His body felt light and like lead at the same time, and he was sure that if it wasn't for the two guys, he'd have fallen over right there. The lights seemed to flash at the same rhythm as the guy rubbing his cock.

The dark one started kissing Elijah's neck then and deliberately arched his hips forward, giving more contact to Elijah's cock. His eyes fluttered shut as his breath caught in his chest, the man's hips undulating roughly over his erection.

"I'm Elijah," he said suddenly. Both of the other guys were so close to his mouth that they could hear, so he opened his eyes and looked expectantly at them.

"Charlie," the light one said, then leaned down to lick his tongue from the base of Elijah's neck to right behind his earlobe.

Elijah shuddered, then turned to the other man, who smirked and said, "Stu."

"Nice to meet you," Elijah muttered as Charlie wrapped his arms completely around Elijah's chest, and ran his fingertips across the thin material of his shirt. He found both of Elijah's nipples and circled them slowly.

Elijah dropped his head forward against Stu's shoulder, and Stu turned his head and bit Elijah's ear roughly. Elijah jerked in surprise and lifted his head slightly. "What?"

"Are you a virgin?" Stu asked.

Elijah did a double take, then laughed harshly before saying, "Are you fucking kidding me? Fuck no. Why?"

"You just look so fucking young and innocent. How old are you? Seventeen?" Stu slid his hand underneath Elijah's shirt, fingertips cold against his skin.

"Would you like it if I was?" Elijah asked cheekily. Part of him couldn't believe the guy; the other part was intrigued by it all. He had almost forgotten that Charlie and Stu were rubbing up against him - _almost_.

"Maybe. Wouldn't mind hooking up with a young, innocent bloke. The whole older, experienced man thing. Are you into that?" Stu slid his hand underneath Elijah's shirt, pushed one of Charlie's hands away, and tweaked Elijah's nipple extremely hard. Elijah winced in pain. "Fucking pussy."

"Fuck you," Elijah spat. He reached up behind him and grabbed Charlie's head, bringing his mouth painfully against his own for a fierce kiss. Stu's fingers twisted his nipples until they burned as he watched them, eyes never leaving Elijah's. Elijah held his gaze as he kissed Charlie.

"I could show you quite a bit, you know." Stu scratched his nails down Elijah's stomach, twisting his wrist so his arm wrapped around Elijah's hip. Charlie mumbled something in protest as Stu moved even closer to Elijah, but they both ignored him.

"I doubt there's anything you can show me," Elijah replied. "I'm not that young, and I'm definitely _not_ innocent."

"That's just too fucking bad. I'll just pretend. It's easy to pretend you're an innocent little thing with that mouth and baby face."

"You're one sick fucker," Elijah said, groaning as Charlie scraped his teeth along the back of his neck.

"I like to think so." A feral grin spread across Stu's face.

Then, Stu pressed his lips to Elijah's again, kissing him like he was trying to crawl into Elijah's soul through his mouth. Charlie's teeth were nibbling at the skin around his collar, nipping then worrying the flesh with his tongue. They both danced to the music as they ground their hips into Elijah's.

There were a million things going through his head; he couldn't believe he was fucking two people at the same time, he wished the guys were here to witness it, he wished one of the guys he was with was Dom, he half-wished he was just with Stu, he knew he wouldn't last half a minute like this, he couldn't believe he was about to come in his jeans after getting off from being rubbed up against like a horny teenager, and he realized he really fucking needed a clove.

Before he knew what was happening, he was squeezing his eyes shut and reaching back to hold onto Charlie as he came inside his jeans. His legs nearly gave out, and leaned all his weight onto Charlie as he tried to breathe. The alcohol had made his head groggy, and he needed fresh air.

Pulling Charlie's face to him to give him a final kiss, then doing the same to Stu, he squeezed out of their grip and headed off the dance floor. When he turned back around, he saw they were dancing together, pressed as close as they were to him.

He found the bathroom after a few moments, pushed past the people doing drugs and fucking and passing out on the floor, and went inside the stall to clean himself. He tried his best to dry himself off and decided he didn't give a damn about the wet spot on the front of his jeans. Could be come, could be alcohol, he mused.

After coming out of the stall, he leaned against a nearby sink and dug his hand inside his pocket, searching for his pack of cloves. He pulled out the cell phone the band had gotten to share during their stay in England and then the pack underneath, but when he glanced down at his phone, he noticed there was a missed call. He'd put the phone on vibrate, but obviously he hadn't felt it in all the excitement.

He flipped open the phone, hit a button, and saw that someone from the house had called. Elijah gripped the phone in his hand, left the bathroom, and walked outside the warehouse.

The night air was cool against his sweaty skin, and he pushed his damp hair off his forehead with the back of his hand. He hit the speed dial button for Orlando's and cradled the phone against his shoulder as he pulled a cigarette out of the crumpled package.

"Woodstick!" Dom shouted into the phone as he answered.

"Hey Dom." Elijah rested the filter between his lips as he lit the tip.

"What're you doing, gay boy?"

Elijah inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out slowly, watching the blue-grey wisps in the harsh glare of the streetlight. He suddenly realized how drunk he really was.

"I'm at some fucked up rave," he said slowly.

"Dammit, I knew I should have come out with you tonight. Sounds much more interesting than what I did."

"What did you do?" Elijah sat down on the curb, taking care to avoid the broken beer bottles on the sidewalks.

"I went and played poker with a bunch of my old mates."

"With what money?" Elijah took another drag and flicked ashes onto the sidewalk, brushing a few strays off the knee of his jeans.

"Orlando gave me some. I only lost two hundred pounds. He was impressed."

"You are a pretty crap poker player." Elijah glanced around for any sign of a taxi, but didn't see one. "Fucking A, I can't find a taxi anywhere. I'm not walking all the way to the house."

"Someone might rape and kill you. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" Dom said. Elijah rolled his eyes.

"I'm just going to finish my cigarette, then figure out what to do."

"Are you drunk?" Dom asked.

"No," he lied.

"Elijah Jordan Wood. I can tell when you're drunk."

"Then why the fuck did you ask me?" Elijah asked. His head was swimming and Dom's voice just kept digging into his brain. "So, why exactly did you call me? Other than to interrupt my night."

"Yeah, like you were having some crazy good sex when I called."

Elijah giggled, quickly tried to cover it up, but then started giggling uncontrollably. Leave it up to Dom to hit the nail on the head.

"You were having crazy good sex?" Dom asked. "With who?"

"These two guys I met. We didn't have sex, we just danced and all that. Why do you care who I'm having sex with anyway?" Elijah took another drag of his cigarette.

"I don't care who you're having sex with," Dom said, frustrated. "I called," he continued, "to tell you not to stay out too late."

"Why? Do you have big plans for us tomorrow? Did Billy finally decide to stop playing angsty emo rock star so we can be a band again?"

"No. Actually," Dom paused and Elijah could sense a bit of hesitation in his voice.

"Dominic Monaghan, are you blushing?" Elijah teased, giggling.

"No!" Dom protested. "You can't even see me, you stupid tosser."

"You totally did that cute little trail off thing you do when you're embarrassed about something. But please, continue. I'm dying to know what has you blushing."

"Fuck you." Elijah giggled again and tossed his finished cigarette into the street. Dom grunted in annoyance. "My mother has invited all of you for dinner tomorrow. But since we have to take a train, Sean wanted to get an early start. Billy, Orlando, and I told him it wasn't really a big deal, but you know Sean. Plus, he's so bloody American it's embarrassing. Doesn't trust the whole train thing anyway. Thinks a car is better, when all they do is pollute the air and…"

The door to the warehouse opened, and Stu stepped outside onto the sidewalk, eyes riveted on Elijah. Elijah tuned out Dom as he ranted on about the perks of being British (a speech Elijah had heard more than once) as Stu slowly walked towards him.

"Who are you talking to?" Stu asked as he approached Elijah. He stepped between Elijah's open legs and squatted down until he was eye-level. "Talking to your boyfriend?" Stu asked right into the phone.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Elijah said quietly, trying to cover the mouthpiece with his hand. But he was too late.

"Elijah, are you even listening to me?" Dom asked. "Who are you talking to?"

"It's no one, Dom."

"Didn't think I was such a no one a while ago." Stu leaned forward and bit Elijah's neck.

"Are you fucking someone now?" Dom asked loudly.

Elijah tried half-heartedly to push Stu away. "No, I'm not fucking anybody. Listen, I gotta go. I'll be home soon."

"Um…okay. Talk to you later."

Elijah snapped the phone shut and immediately pulled Stu's face towards his own, covering his mouth hungrily. He curled his fingers into the fabric of Stu's shirt, reeling him in even closer as his tongue licked across Stu's teeth and the underside of his tongue. Stu sucked Elijah's tongue for a moment before letting go and rocking back on his heels.

"So, that wasn't your boyfriend? Damn, I thought we could give him a free show over the phone." Stu pressed the heel of his palm against the crotch of Elijah's jeans.

"Are you always this much of an asshole? Does it usually work as an angle?" Between the call to Dom, the clove, and Stu, Elijah felt light-headed.

"Seemed to work on the dance floor, didn't it?" He smirked, and Elijah opened his mouth to retort, but realized Stu was right.

"Shit." He tried to push himself up a few times, but kept losing his balance and tumbling back down. With some difficulty, he finally stood up and extended his hands to keep his balance. "Listen, I got to go. Do you know where I can find a taxi around here?"

"How about I give you a lift home?" Stu stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked genuine for the first time all night.

"All right. Okay. Cool, thanks."

Stu drove the kind of car that Elijah expected him to drive; small, fast, sleek, expensive. Elijah was afraid to even step inside it in case he tracked dirt or mud on the mats. Stu drove with no care or concern as he sped through the empty streets of Canterbury, speeding around curves and through red lights. Elijah kept hoping he wouldn't puke all over the pristine leather.

"So, you're obviously American. What brings you to Canterbury? Are you at the university?"

Elijah shook his head and tried to loosen his death grip on the door handle. "No. I'm here with some friends. We came for a funeral. We're in a band."

"Ooh nice. What kind of band?" Stu asked, interested. Elijah turned his attention to Stu instead of the road, trying to forget the constant fear that they were going to crash into a wall.

"Rock band. I play drums."

Stu glanced at him quickly. "You don't really strike me as the drummer type. Actually, you don't really strike me as the rock star type."

Elijah inwardly sighed. "I get that shit all the time. The other guys look more the part than I do. Before that, I was a philosophy major."

"Now that, I can see," Stu said, laughing. "How old are you really? I'm guessing you're at least eighteen, right?"

"Twenty-one, asshole." Elijah giggled.

"Still a bit younger than me, just not as young as I'd hoped. Oh well. I'll deal, I guess." Stu pulled up to a stoplight and turned to Elijah. "How about you don't go home to the boyfriend on the mobile and come home with me instead?"

Elijah huffed in annoyance. "He's _not_ my boyfriend." He stared as Stu waited patiently. He had told Dom he'd come home so they could leave for Manchester in the morning, but really, what would it hurt if he spent the night at Stu's and made sure he was back at the house early?

"Well?"

"Just as long as I'm at the house by 9."

Stu smirked and spun the wheels as the light turned green.

*

"Where the fuck is he?" Dom paced across the kitchen floor, dialing the cell phone again. He hung up before leaving a message, unlike the other four times he'd called. "I talked to him last night. He said he was coming home!"

"Dom, chill out, mate." Orlando poured orange juice into a glass and set it across the counter. "Sit down, drink some juice, and calm down. You said he was talking to some guy when he hung up. He probably just went home with him. You know Elijah."

"Yes, I know Elijah, and Elijah usually doesn't go home with guys. He fucks them, but he doesn't go home with them."

"Maybe he really liked this one," Orlando offered, dipping his spoon into soggy cereal. He sighed and ate it anyway.

"He should know better than to go home with some stranger," Dom said angrily. He picked up the glass hastily, splashing some juice onto the counter, and gulped.

"I can't quite figure out if you're mad because he didn't come home out of some bizarre father-protector complex you have about Elijah, or…" Orlando looked at Dom intensely, "if you're jealous he was out fucking someone all night, and it wasn’t you."

"You're such a cunt, Orlando. The point _is_ ," Dom said, his eyes narrowed into small slits, "that it's common courtesy to let your family know if you're not coming home. It has nothing to do with the fact that he was out fucking. I'm just concerned about his well-being."

"That's a nice little story, but have you forgotten you've been my best mate for nearly ten years? I can tell when you're lying. Your ears give you away every time." Orlando laughed and lifted his bowl to his mouth to drink the milk.

"My what?" Dom reached up and touched his ears gingerly. "Nothing wrong with my bloody ears," he grumbled.

"Except that they're a bright red, almost as red as your face. So, you're jealous because Elijah spent the night with some other bloke? It's okay, Dom. I'm not going to tell him. And when you ream Elijah when he gets here, you better come up with a better story than 'I'm concerned about your well-being'. Elijah's not stupid." Orlando chuckled at the stunned look on Dom's face.

"Why is it Elijah that always fucks the guys? I mean, you, me, and Billy are attractive blokes. Why don't we go out and fuck everything that moves?"

"I don't know about you and Billy, but for me," Orlando said, taking his empty bowl over to the sink, "I don't like having sex with a bunch of strangers. Yes, I like sex. I like sex a whole fucking lot. And if I'm honest with myself, I bloody hell don't get enough of it."

"I think Elijah goes out too much. Too many guys. He could get hurt. Or syphilis," Dom said, chewing on the end of a pen he found lying on the counter.

"Syphilis? Elijah's not going to get syphilis, you idiot. He's smart. He got the safe sex lectures when he was in high school. He's probably been safer than you used to be." Orlando gave Dom a stern look, and Dom stared back blankly. Orlando shook his head. "Elijah's young. Before he joined the band, he probably got next to no sex. Now? He's just having a bit of fun."

"I know, but…" Dom sighed.

"Dom, I don't think I'll ever understand you. If you want Elijah, tell him. But you've got to stop jerking him around. Because it's not fair to him, and it fucking pisses me off." Orlando's voice turned sharp as he glared at Dom.

"Calm down, Orli. I don't want Elijah. If I wanted him, I could have him easy. I'm just pissed because he told me he was coming home and he didn't. That's all." Orlando gave him a dubious glance, but Dom stood up and tossed the pen onto the counter. "That's _all_ , Orlando."

Dom walked out of the kitchen, leaving Orlando standing there, confused. He knew Dom was lying, but he also knew that Dom _could_ have Elijah if he truly wanted him. After years of friendship, Orlando didn't understand Dom any better than he understood Billy – and that was pretty much not at all.

But Dom did hit on something that had been bothering Orlando (though he didn't let Dom know that). Orlando had been worried about Elijah for some time now. Since before they left New York. He'd thought that it had been school, or Dom and Miranda, or the stress of the band, or a little bit of it all, but there was no reason for Elijah to be upset now. The band was fine (thankfully), and he and Dom were friends again, probably better than they'd been in a long time. But Elijah still had that look about him, the smile that didn't reach his eyes, and the way he disappeared all the time to go out drinking in clubs while he fucked random strangers. No matter what he had said to Dom, Elijah did have sex with more strangers than he should.

Or maybe Orlando was now playing the worried parent.

As he rinsed out his bowl, his mother and Sam walked into the kitchen, dressed in sun dresses and heels. His mother even had on a hat. Orlando glanced at the clock. It was only a little after eight.

"Orlando, you're not wearing that to the brunch, are you?" His mother floated over towards him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "And that hair! You need a haircut."

"Mother, you haven't been out of bed before noon since I got here. And today you're in full gear. What's going on?" He opened the dishwasher, pulled out the top rack, and set the bowl on it.

"Don't you know that bowls go on the bottom shelf?" Sam asked. Orlando ignored her and shut the dishwasher.

"It's the Garden Society's memorial brunch for your father. They sent a whole array of mums, hydrangeas, and other flowers in his memory, but since he was such an esteemed member and financial contributor of the Garden Society, they decided to hold a brunch in his honor. Isn't that wonderful? Now, hurry upstairs and put on a suit before we go. I suggest the grey one."

"I'm not going to the brunch. I told you, I'm going to the Manchester with the guys. We're spending the day with the Monaghans." Orlando leaned against the counter and looked at his mother in irritation.

"Oh." Her posture became stiff, and she adjusted her hat. "You can't _not_ go, Orlando. What would people think?"

"I don't care what people think. I want to go spend the day with my friends. Not with strangers who don't give a damn about us or Dad."

"Well," she said, wringing her hands. "Very well, Orlando. You're a grown man, and I can't tell you what to do. Though, I would really love to have both my children by my side during this. But since your mind is made up…" She turned around on her heel and walked towards the door, but she stopped before she left the kitchen. "Have fun today. And really dear, do think about getting a haircut. You look like a shaggy dog."

And then she left.

"I like my hair," Orlando mumbled as he self-consciously touched his curls.

"Never thought you cared too much about what dear old mum thought about the way you looked. The hair, tattoos, the whole ensemble that screams, 'look at me, I'm a big pouf!' Why should it matter now?" Sam picked an apple out of the fruit bowl and took a bite.

"I can't take much more of this," he said.

"She's lost, Orlando. And she didn't get the security she expected when her oh-so-rich husband died." She shrugged, took a bite of her apple, and walked towards the door.

"Sorry I'm leaving you alone at the brunch thing," Orlando said. She turned around and smiled.

"It's okay, baby brother. There's plenty of free alcohol to get me toasted, and maybe they'll be a cute waiter I can fuck."

"Ew, I so did not need that visual." They laughed, and Sam took a final bite from her apple before tossing it in the trashcan. "Now, leave before she comes back."

"I'll save you from that one. Have fun at Dom's. Tell Matt I said hi." Sam smiled sadly before disappearing.

Orlando wandered out of the kitchen and towards the living room. He spotted Billy in the middle of the room, sitting profile on the couch, guitar on his knee, pencil behind his ear, and notepad open on the table. Orlando hung around the doorway, out of sight as he watched Billy.

Billy shut his eyes and played an intense melody on the guitar, softly singing lyrics over it. But he didn't seem happy with that, so he paused, took the pencil from behind his ear and leaned forward, scribbled something on the notebook, then went back to the guitar. Closing his eyes again, he played the same melody, but this time belted a different set of lyrics.

Orlando felt a chill pass over him as Billy sang. After all the years of playing together, Orlando was still blown away by how amazing he was.

"That was incredible," Orlando said when Billy finished. Billy looked up, slightly embarrassed, as Orlando entered the room. "New song?"

"Working on it." Billy laid the guitar on the couch beside him. "Sean's booking us a UK gig. Bean said if we didn't do something, we'd be in breach of contract."

"Yeah, well, Bean's a fucking asshole." Orlando stopped behind the couch and placed his hands on either side of Billy's head.

"But he still calls the shots. And until he doesn't, he owns our souls." Billy sighed dropped his head back, looking up at Orlando.

"It's not that bad." They both knew he was lying. He ran a hand lightly over Billy's messy hair, and was surprised to see Billy's eyes flutter shut. Gaining confidence, he then ran his fingers through Billy's hair, soft, soothing touches.

"You look exhausted," Orlando said quietly. "Are you not sleeping?"

"Too much work." Billy seemed to relax a bit as Orlando's stroked his hair.

"You weren't sleeping before you started working on music again."

"Just a lot on my mind. Before I was working, there was no Valiant Effort. That kept me up. And of course…there was you. And your father." Billy opened his eyes and looked up at Orlando with soft eyes.

"You needn't have worried about me. I was fine." Orlando smiled and felt his hands trembling.

"I know." Billy closed his eyes again.

"Today should be relaxing, though. Haven't seen the Monaghans in awhile."

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to it. Plus, the train ride to Manchester will give me ample time to get some work done."

"No," Orlando barked.

Billy opened his eyes sharply. "What?"

"I said no. Listen." Orlando slid one hand down and cupped Billy's cheek. "The music, the new song, the guitar will all be here tomorrow. You deserve a break. One day is not going to kill you. Or the band."

"Orlando, really, I think I can decide for myself –"

"There's no argument." He dropped both hands to Billy's neck and started kneading the tight muscle with his fingertips. "See? That's nothing but tension. Promise me, no work today."

Billy looked away, clearly annoyed.

"Promise me!" Orlando slid his hands down and started massaging Billy's shoulders. Billy sighed as his eyes drifted shut again.

"I promise."

*

Sean glanced at the clock. There was still a bit of morning left before he and Viggo had to be up and ready to go to the train station. He looked beside him at a sleeping Viggo, back turned towards him and feet pressed flat against Sean's calf. Papers littered the bed; lists of venues around the UK, numbers of booking agents, newspaper clippings from the entertainment section of various newspapers, and a few local entertainment and culture magazines. He'd already made a list of the top priority clubs, places that a lot of the top rock bands played before they made it big. The only problem was actually getting the dates booked, and some of them pretty much last minute.

He pulled the glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes, stretching his legs out. He glanced back over at Viggo, visually tracing the lines of his back, the scars on his shoulders, how the comforter had slid low on his hips during the night. He felt a frightening attachment to him, and briefly wondered how he'd lived without him in his life.

After quietly and carefully moving all the papers to a pile in the floor, Sean turned on his side and scooted against Viggo. He draped an arm over Viggo's side, ran his fingertips down his chest before gripping Viggo's morning erection in his hand. He kissed a line across Viggo's shoulder as he slowly and deliberately stroked his cock, listening closely to each little sound Viggo made as his body woke up.

"Mmm," Viggo mumbled, shifting slightly as he became increasingly aware of Sean's hand. "Good morning to you, too."

"I love you in the morning," Sean whispered against his skin, dragging his lips against the morning stubble of Viggo's cheek. He loved the way Viggo's voice was all husky with sleep, hair messy and tangled, eyes still closed as he goes from sleepy confusion to realization of what Sean was doing.

"A man could get spoiled by you, you know." Viggo turned his head and blindly searched for Sean's lips. Sean kissed him, lazily sucking his tongue. When he pulled away, he propped himself up with his hand and stared down at Viggo, watching. "You must love me to kiss me with this morning breath."

"That's sexy, Vig." Sean laughed and tightened his grip around Viggo's cock. A few minutes later, Viggo squeezed his eyes shut and with a small grunt came in Sean's hand. Sean kept stroking until he felt Viggo start to go soft, then wiped his hand on the sheet.

"That's disgusting, Sean," Viggo groaned, rolling over on top of Sean. "It's a good thing the maid changes the sheets every day."

"I know. It gives us excuses to be disgusting."

"That was anything but disgusting." Viggo leaned down and kissed Sean slowly. "Were you up working?" he asked when he broke the kiss.

"Yeah. I didn't get a chance to tell you last night since you were asleep when I came to bed, but I've got to book a whole damn UK tour."

"That's great, though. That'll be wonderful exposure for the guys. I bet they're thrilled." Viggo studied Sean intensely. "But you're not. What's wrong?"

Sean sighed. "I don't know what in the hell I'm doing. They need a real manager, not me."

"Not this again." Viggo rolled off of Sean, taking care to keep away from the wet spots. He propped a pillow against the headboard and sat back. "Sean, I love you. You know that, but you have _got_ to get over this. You're not an intern wasting away an MBA anymore. You're the manager of a rock band that will probably actually make it. And you know as well as I do that they are not going to fire you the moment they get successful."

"I know all that," Sean scooted up beside him. "It's just that I don't know how to book an entire string of gigs. Especially not in another fucking country! And of course, Billy is expecting me to book the gigs and do everything."

"That's your job, honey."

Sean threw the covers off and started to get up, but Viggo grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back to the bed.

"Oh no you don't. You're not getting mad at me and storming off."

Sean struggle to get away, but Viggo's grasp was too tight.

"Fine!" Sean got back into bed and crossed his arms.

"Why are you acting like this? I didn't do anything."

Sean sighed and his anger suddenly turned into a mix of embarrassment and desperation. "I'm sorry. It has nothing to do with you, and I shouldn't take it out on you."

Viggo reached out and took Sean's hand. He brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

"Sean, you've done a great job so far. They have a fucking fanbase in New York. If you hadn't done _your_ job, that wouldn't have happened." Sean turned his head and looked at the floor, but Viggo took his chin and gently pulled his face towards him. "You're going to be fine."

"It's so much harder here."

"You didn't think it was going to be easy when you took the job. The Sean Astin I know likes a challenge and won't settle until he's fought and pestered and annoyed and beaten down every obstacle in his path to get what he wants."

"You make me out so much braver than I really am." Sean squeezed Viggo's hand.

"You are brave. And you've got me. I'll help in any way I can. We'll figure out this booking thing if it kills us. They'll have a gig by Friday, Saturday at the latest."

"Here's hoping," Sean muttered.

"No negative talk! Now, we're going to Manchester today, and we're going to have a lovely time. I command it." Viggo smiled and leaned forward to kiss Sean. "But first, let's get you in the shower. I think I owe you a little reciprocation for earlier."

*

Elijah searched bleary eyed for his other boot, but couldn't find it anywhere. He didn't have his glasses and he'd slept in his contacts, and now his eyes were on fire and he could barely see. Not to mention, he had a pounding headache and had probably only gotten two hours of sleep.

Dom was going to kill him.

"Stu, have you seen my other boot?" Elijah ran back into the bedroom, fell to his knees, and crawled around looking under the bed, under pillows, in the corner. He finally found it kicked nearly under an armchair. "Nevermind! I found it."

He quickly pulled on his boot, grabbed his keys, cigarettes, and phone off of the table and ran into the living room. Stu stood by the door, looking hung over and annoyed.

"Why the fuck can't you call a cab?" he asked as he followed Elijah out into the bright morning sunshine. "That way I could sleep. Do you realize it's not even nine yet?"

"I can't afford to take a taxi across town. Plus, you told me last night that if I came home with you that you'd drive me home before nine this morning. You promised, so technically it's all _your_ fault."

Elijah got into the car and pulled out the cell phone. There were five missed calls and four voice messages. When he saw that the calls were from the house, he knew what the messages were without having to listen to them.

"It's not my fault that you have to go to some damn family reunion with a boyfriend who isn't actually your boyfriend to see a family you've never actually met." Stu cranked up the car and sped out of the driveway. Elijah looked at the house now that he was sober and it was daylight, and realized it was a rather modest house, not what he expected. He guessed Stu spent all his money on cars and clothes.

"I can't miss this. I've been looking forward to meeting them for a long time. Plus, it means a lot to my friend," Elijah explained. He wasn't exactly sure where they were, but he'd told Stu where Orlando lived and he seemed to know where it was.

The rest of the car ride was quiet. Stu played the radio louder than Elijah would have liked, but at least he didn't have to make small talk. He'd never actually spent the night with anyone he'd just met, and he realized how awkward it really was. Now that he was sober, he didn't even know what to say to Stu. He was gorgeous, and fucked the hell out of him, but that didn't mean that Elijah could just start rambling about the first thing that came to his mind.

"That street right there," Elijah pointed out when they got near to Orlando's place. After directing Stu to the house, he stopped the car on the street. Elijah turned to him and didn't have a clue how to end this.

"Thanks for the ride. And letting me sleep over last night."

"And fucking you?" Stu asked, grinning slyly. Elijah noticed he had a sort of maliciousness about him, and he hated that he found it so fucking sexy. He felt like he was falling for some bad-boy cliché.

"Yes, and fucking me." Elijah laughed uncomfortably and opened the car door. "So, yeah. Thanks again."

"I'll call you sometime this week," Stu said as Elijah got out of the car.

"I never gave you my number."

"You gave it to me last night, don't you remember?"

Elijah wracked his brain, trying to remember, and he sorta remembered something fuzzy. "Vaguely." He smiled and gripped the car door. "I'd like that. See you later, then."

"Definitely."

Elijah shut the door, and with that, Stu sped away.

When he turned around and looked down the long driveway at Orlando's house, he felt a sense of dread settle in his stomach. Someone had called him five times – and he had a pretty good guess on who that was – and part of him did feel kind of shitty for not coming home. But there was no way in hell he'd ever tell Dom that.

He briskly walked up the driveway and entered the house as quietly as he could. He didn't hear anyone, so he made his way through the expansive rooms into the kitchen.

Where he found Dom on a stool. Waiting for him.

"Where in the bloody hell have you been?" Dom asked angrily. "You didn't come home. You didn't answer my calls. You could have been dead!"

"I'm not. I'm here. In plenty of time to make the train, and even take a shower and eat breakfast." He smiled weakly as he made his way towards the refrigerator.

"We were worried when you didn't come home," Dom continued. "I was worried," he said more quietly. "You were drunk and with some stranger when I talked to you."

"I spent the night at his house," Elijah said, suddenly very interested in the contents of the refrigerator. "That's where I was. I'm fine now." He grabbed a carton of cold pizza and laid it on the island counter, still not looking at Dom.

"Nice to know you've moved on from just fucking strangers to going home with them. Real mature, Lij." Dom got up and started out of the kitchen.

"Just where do you get off?" Elijah shouted. Dom stopped and turned around. "Last time I checked, I didn't have to answer to you. You're not my father, and you're sure as hell not my boyfriend. We're friends, Dom."

"Yeah. Friends." Dom scoffed and walked out of the room.

Elijah sat down on a stool and pulled a cold piece of pepperoni and black olive from the box. He wasn't sure what in the hell just happened, but it was over. At least there was that.

After eating five pieces of pizza, he ran upstairs and took a quick shower. Back in his room, he slipped on a comfortable pair of jeans, an old band t-shirt, his pair of maroon converse, and finally put on his glasses. His eyes were still killing him, and from his reflection he could tell they were rather red. He looked like hell. Great, just the way he wanted to meet Dom's parents. Hung over, red-eyed, and well fucked by some guy that wasn't their son. This was turning out to be a lovely day.

As he was towel drying his hair, he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in!"

Dom walked in, dressed with a messenger bag over his shoulder. Elijah rolled his eyes and went back to drying his hair.

"Look, I came to say I was sorry," Dom said. Elijah straightened up and gaped at Dom in shock. "You're right. You don't have to answer to any of us. But, I was just really fucking worried. You don't know what went through my head while you were gone." Elijah had to stop himself from laughing out loud; the numerous times Dom had disappeared in the middle of the night without a word to go sell or buy drugs raced through his head. Even though it was nice for Dom to know how it felt, Elijah hated that he'd put Dom through that.

"I just wish you'd have let us know you weren't coming home."

"I'll call next time," Elijah said.

"Good." Dom smiled and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Why are you wearing your glasses?"

Elijah draped the towel over the back of a chair and walked to Dom, leaning down till they were eye to eye. "I slept in my contacts and now I look demonic. Or extremely hung over. I'm going to make a great impression on your parents."

"Ah, they probably won't even notice. Besides, you look better in your glasses anyway."

"I'm not sure I'm supposed to take that as a compliment," Elijah laughed. He threw a few things into his own messenger bag – wallet, iPod, book – and pulled it over his head and onto his shoulder. "I'm ready."

"Great, let's go."

The ride to the train station took two cabs since there were six of them going. Elijah rode with Orlando and Dom, and dozed off before they even got there. He woke up when Orlando poked him in the side.

"Come on, sleeping beauty." Orlando smiled and slid out of the cab as Dom paid. Elijah groggily followed. As soon as they boarded the train, he found a seat beside the window and closed his eyes. He could feel the train wheels turning as it pulled out of the station and it had already started to lull him to sleep when he felt someone sit down right beside him. He didn't care enough to open his eyes.

"Late night?"

"I really hate you right now, Orlando. Just let me sleep."

"Where's the fun in that? Besides, I want to talk to you."

Elijah shifted closer to the window, trying to get his face comfortable against the glass. "Dom's already given me the lecture. You two are worse than my parents."

"I don't want to talk to you about staying out last night. I told Dom you probably went home with that bloke you were talking to when he called. He overreacts. You know Dom."

Elijah opened his eyes and twisted in his seat until his back was against the side of the train. He looked around the train car, saw Billy and Dom in the front of the car, amiably arguing about something, and Viggo and Sean a few rows behind him on the other side. He then turned his full attention on Orlando.

"All right, talk. I'm listening."

"Listen, I know I'm not your father, and I sure as hell don't want to be. I'm your band mate and your friend. And that's why I want to talk to you. Okay?" Orlando waited for an answer.

"Sure, whatever."

"Elijah, you know that you don't have to fuck guys to make them like you. Plenty of them will like you even if you don't."

"I thought this wasn't a lecture," Elijah sighed.

"It's not. I'm just kinda worried, that's it. You're young and there is a whole world of guys out there that want to fuck you. I get it. I just want you to know that you don't have to fuck someone to get them to like you."

Elijah ran a hand through his hair and leaned closer to Orlando, lowering his voice. "I'm not exactly Mr. Cool, okay? I don't have your looks, or Dom's charm, or even Billy's confidence. I got the shit beat out of me in high school for just talking to guys. The only guy I did have sex with turned out to be a total dick. So, I'm sorry if I don't exactly think that people will like me for me. Besides, I'm not looking for people to like me; I'm looking for people to fuck me."

"Maybe you should try and get someone to like you. There are other guys in the world besides Dom," Orlando said softly.

"Fuck you, Orlando."

"Lij, don't be like this. I just don't want you to get hurt, that's all. I worry about you. You're like my little brother. I can't help it. I get all protective over you."

Elijah looked over at Orlando, who looked uncomfortable and sincere. He wasn't sure why in the _hell_ everyone had chosen this morning to talk to him. But sitting there with Orlando, it made him glad he had people who cared. Even if it did annoy the shit out of him.

"Fine," he said finally. "I'm sorry. I just…I've never had anyone but my parents talk to me like this before. You three are the first real friends I've ever had. Pathetic, I know." Elijah made a face, and Orlando tried not to laugh. "I guess I just figure that if I keep fucking people, it'll help me get over him. I'm not like you. I can't just be content in being around him every day, like you are with Billy. It's hard to be in the same room with Dom without feeling like I'm going to burst. I hate it, yet he's one of my best friends. My life sucks, dude."

Orlando laughed. "You think I'm content in just being around him? Damn, I got everyone fooled." He and Elijah turned their gazes towards the front of the train car.

"Dom's a fucking asshole," Elijah stated.

"Billy's an insufferable cunt," Orlando replied.

"We sure know how to pick them, don't we?" Elijah said.

"Proximity issue? They're there, so we fell. I think that's a fair theory," Orlando mused.

"There are a lot of guys in our _proximity_ ," Elijah said sarcastically. "It's more than that." He shrugged. "If I promise to be more careful, will you let me get some sleep?"

"Sure."

Even after Orlando left, Elijah had trouble falling asleep. He didn't like that everyone was all into his business, or that they were worried about him. He knew his mother worried about him – that was natural. She sent her baby off to New York. If only she knew half the shit he actually did… And Hannah worried about him because she knew the truth. She'd grown up with him, after all. He'd lived with the guys for over a year now, and they'd never really said much about each other's lifestyle choices. They had only said something to Dom about the drugs when it got him into the hospital and threatened the band. Everything else, the shit with Orlando and Bean, their jobs, their sex lives, drugs, alcohol, it all wasn't something they discussed. It was their lives, they just played together. Now, it was all different somehow. Maybe Dom was right. Maybe they were some kind of family. An incestuous family, Elijah mused, but a family regardless. And for some reason, that made Elijah smile.

-fin  



End file.
